Silhouette
by candybot
Summary: He lives in the lap of luxury, but one honest mistake threatens everything Atobe Keigo has ever known.


**A/N:** As of 01/28/12, Silhouette is being rewritten! Er, because when I first wrote this, I had just started high school and was feeling a bit (a lot) pretentious. And I was going to rewrite this anyways, but I, er, guess I forgot to save... Anyways, it's nothing new (for the moment)!

**Disclaimer: **Prince of Tennis © Takeshi Konomi

**Warnings: **Suggestive situations, mild language.

* * *

As Atobe Keigo awoke that morning, a stifling heaviness had settled upon his heart. He stirred and froze upon feeling something warm, something _fleshy_ brush his skin. Then, he groaned, recounting the night's past events with a heavy heart and a pounding in his ears. He lifted the covers off his body and swung his legs over the side of his bed. The teen was careful in his movements, wary of making even the smallest sound.

He scanned his room, noting with a wry smile the various articles of clothing that had lay strewn across the floor. He got up with a deep sigh, grabbing the bathrobe that, during the previous night's events, had been haphazardly thrown onto the blue suede armchair occupying the corner near his bed. Atobe ran long, pale fingers through his dark, unkempt hair. The teen shivered and wrapped the robe tighter to his body, feeling the fabric tickle his bare skin. He strove for the door, pausing only momentarily to glance back at his room. The curtains were drawn, barely letting a sliver of the morning sun to stray into the otherwise dark, cold room. He gripped the handle and opened the door. Atobe stepped out into the hallway, deciding to head for the kitchen where he would make a nice, _strong_ cup of coffee. When he returned, everything would be fine, everything would return to way it was and the way it should have been.

At least, that's what he hoped for from the very bottom of his heavy heart.

* * *

"Ah, Atobe, there you are." Oshitari Yuushi, the handsome teen greeted his friend.

Without a word, Atobe glanced up.

"Oshitari…" He started in but a whisper, "It was a mistake – A huge mistake."

Oshitari's constant presence in the Atobe heir's life had led the young teen to confide in the taller teen. They were teammates, but they were also _friends_. And Oshitari knew Atobe like no other. Keigo had confided in him, had told him that his narcissism, his _lies_, were the only thing protecting him from falling apart, protecting him from everything and everyone.

Oshitari regarded Atobe with raised eyebrows and genuine confusion, "…What are you talking about?"

"It was a mistake. I made a mistake Oshitari."

"I'm still not sure what–"

The Atobe heir cut off his friend briskly. He shook his head in a slight disapproving manner, indicating to the taller teen that their conversation was, for the moment, over. Oshitari had known Keigo long enough, and had been _friends_ with him long enough to know that the teen was deeply disturbed. He followed Keigo's gaze and his eyes fell upon the approaching group of teens. It was the regulars of the Hyotei regular tennis team, radiating boundless energy. Gakuto was waving his arms animatedly as he talked to anyone who was willing to listen; Shishido and his doubles partner, Choutarou, were discussing amongst themselves; Kabaji, with his strong shoulders thrown back, half-dragged Jirou, who yawned constantly and complained about not enough sleep; and Hiyoshi completed the group, the fire in his eyes never fading. Atobe regarded this with a slight bitterness; in front of him stood the genius of Hyotei, one who could easily counter the prodigy Fuji Shuusuke of Seigaku, Oshitari Yuushi. And he himself, the king of narcissism and arrogance, could not be easily disregarded. Atobe _would_ lead his team to victory. How could he show such weakness to those who believed in him?

Oshitari kept silent, deciding that whatever it was, Atobe had remained wordless for a reason. The Kansai genius did not necessarily agree with his friend's silence, but he knew that Atobe would figure it out. And when he needed whatever he needed, Oshitari would be waiting. The group approached the two teens, and after many greetings, they moved along to class. While one man still brooded deeply, the other held his tongue.

The others were blissfully unaware.

* * *

Practice had extended late into the night and Keigo had arrived home late, long after his parents had finished dinner. He strode through the halls of the massive Atobe mansion, eager to get to his bedroom and lock the door, refusing to see anyone until the next morning. He was thankful that no one had crossed his path.

He scoffed aloud but was gratefully relieved that his parents hadn't called during practice, demanding that he return home at once. He was halfway to his room when a voice, a voice he wish didn't sound so _heartbroken_, had called out to him.

"Keigo…"

"Yes, mother?"

"Would you come here for a moment?" She said, her eyes betraying her otherwise steady voice, "Your father and I have something we would like to discuss with you."

Keigo maintained a stoic façade as he followed his mother, but his heart beat wildly and his ears pounded with each beat. Each footstep echoed loudly in the silent corridor; Atobe felt suffocated. They reached his father's study in a little while, but for the teen, it was an eternity of anxiety and wild pounding in his ears. His mother politely knocked on the door and Atobe felt his hands begin to clam up.

"Yes?"

"Dear? I've brought Keigo."

A brief silence ensued before his father's voice cut through, "Come in."

The Atobe matriarch opened the door and Keigo followed his mother into the small room. As he stepped in, his heart felt like it would explode. He held his breath, afraid that the _anxiety_, the _suffocation_, the _dismay_ would kill him. His nightmare had come back to haunt him. And because he was no longer sleeping, and because he was wide-awake, it would never disappear.


End file.
